Past Tales of the Espada
by symbion
Summary: Urahara invents strange machine again. This time Ichigo and friends watch as each Espada's human past being shown in front of their eyes. Same realm as my other story 'Alive'.
1. Chapter 1

I'm back…

Instead of finishing Alive, I made this one…

Just random thought, though. But still, I wanna know your opinion, so please R&R!

It kinda continuation of Alive, when both Ichigo and Uriya have been appointed as 5th division officers. This piece has many pairings inside such as Ichigo-Rukia, Ulquiorra/Uriya-Orihime, Hitsugaya-Karin, Renji-Tatsuki, Urahara-Yoruichi, etc.

May contain OOC-ness, bad languages, and disturbing themes, aside from the humor. So, enjoy.

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**PAST TALES OF THE ESPADA**

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**Prelude**

Urahara Kisuke hummed happily in some silly tunes while inspecting his latest invention over and over. _This. Is. Perfect._ He thought giddily, fawning over the machine again, and _again_. He was working all days and nights to invent this one. He didn't even get enough sleep.

The machine was refrigerator-like shaped, except it was much bigger. Actually it could contain several people all at once. Well, he didn't estimate the certain number yet, but he could do it later.

The machine had several plugs, cables, and wires located on its side, linked with the generator, or whatever Urahara used as power source. Several buttons and knobs adorned its door. The red and yellow buttons were flicking; sure sign of the machine working properly.

Now, he would add the last ingredient into his machine.

The shady shopkeeper and scientist opened several small boxes he carried within a bag. They contained grayish fine ash; several were lighter in color, while the others were darker. He mused for a second, staring at the ash-contained boxes on his hands.

_I wonder if it's right thing to do…_

…...

_Bleh, whatever. I'm deadly curious. Tomorrow I will test this babe with Ichigo-kun and the others._

That was Urahara's thinking before he randomly poured the ash one by one into the small valve-opening on the machine.

###

To say that Ichigo was bored was definitely an understatement.

He, several other shinigamis, his human friends, and one Quincy had been back from scouting and hollow hunting since this morning. He was now sitting idly inside Urahara Shoten's living room, sipping a glass of ice tea. Alongside him, sitting silently and also sipping ice tea, were Rukia, his current girlfriend (after several pushing and convincing therapy from his other friends, the newly appointed 5th division taichou finally encouraged himself to hit on her), Renji, Ikkaku, Yumichika, Rangiku, Uryuu, Chad, Orihime, Tatsuki, Karin, and Hitsugaya. They were circling the table, sipping on their respective ice tea. Well, both Hitsugaya and Chad weren't circling the table though; instead they leaned against the wall behind the others.

Orihime now relented her unrequited feeling towards Ichigo and resorted to be Uriya's supposed lover. Since she found out that Ulquiorra had been reborn as Shizu Uriya, she had spent most of her time with him. Especially when the said man visited the living world; which he did less often lately, since he was so confined with his responsibility as 5th division fukutaichou and somehow forced to do most of paperwork instead of Ichigo doing it. The latter was still living in the human world despite his position as the 5th division taichou.

Tatsuki now trained under both Yoruichi and Uriya with Karin as her copartner. While she was mostly tutored and trained by Yoruichi, since her fighting base was hand-to-hand martial art, namely karate; Karin on the other hand was mostly tutored and trained by Uriya. Their initial and official tutor was Urahara Kisuke; but the man resigned and said that he had important business to do, leaving them with the cat-lady and the former Cuarta Espada to depend to.

Tatsuki was still human; she gained her power by increasing her reiatsu level into something she could fight with. She was similar like Chad in one and other way.

Rather, Karin followed her brother's way by becoming a living shinigami and gained her own zanpakuto, a kodachi named Hiei. She had huge amount of reiatsu, just like her brother did; and in order to control and employ her power for good, Yamamoto-soutaichou had given an order to recruit her as substitute shinigami and train her thoroughly.

Karin and Hitsugaya were now in romantic relationship, thanks to both Rangiku's and, surprisingly, Uriya's role in matchmaking both stubborn-headed shinigamis. It was a secret though, because if Ichigo ever found out, well… everything wouldn't turn out well. Ichigo could be really overprotective towards his sisters sometimes.

Renji on the other way was somehow infatuated by Tatsuki. He was still coping from his broken heart, ever since Rukia decided to turn down his affection and chose Ichigo instead; when he was assigned a mission on the human world by his taichou. He was supposed to be partnering with a human, namely Tatsuki at that time; and he found out that the girl was truly a stunningly kickass-lady. And finally, after several attempts to evaluate and reevaluate his own heart, Abarai Renji concluded that he fell in love with one Arisawa Tatsuki, for real. No, scratch that: he was falling-head-over-heel in love with the human girl, period.

At least he was happy when he found out that his feeling wasn't another unrequited one.

All in all, beside these new developments, everything was still the same. Ikkaku was still his fight-loving self; Yumichika was still a vain sissy; Rangiku still liked to go shopping and indulge herself in drinking sake; and so on…

"…I'm bored." Ichigo growled.

Rukia glared at him. "It's not only you who's bored, you fool."

Ichigo scowled and grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'feisty midget'. Rukia thwacked his head using her fist.

"Well, ya can do yer paperwork, Ichigo." Renji mocked, snickering at the more scowling young man. "Ya have plenty already. Don't make such a lame excuse like 'oh, I have the most diligent and hard-working fukutaichou in the entire division so I can slack off in my own bed, lazing and sulking about everything'; believe me, it's not working."

"Are you implying that you actually praise Shizu-fukutaichou, Renji? I sense a jealousy here…" Yumichika drawled. Renji looked at him, flushed.

"It's not that! I mean—look! He even rivals Sasakibe-fukutaichou for diligence!" he countered. "And I'm not jealous just because of that. I'm proud to be myself."

"Ya're just desperate to make Kuchiki-taichou to look at ya as equal." Ikkaku piped in, sheathing and un-sheathing Houzukimaru absentmindedly.

Renji sputtered, blushing as red as his hair by now. It seemed that Ikkaku's words hit the bull's eyes.

"If you refrain to do something stupid like buying him fancy sunglasses as gift, you might be considered equal by Nii-sama, Renji. Or at least decent enough to be acknowledged." Rukia remarked dryly.

"You bought Byakuya sunglasses?! That was utterly stupid." Ichigo snickered, forgetting about his initial boredom.

"H—hey, at least I was generous enough to buy him something!"

"Renji, not everyone shares your fetish of sunglasses." Tatsuki scoffed, teasing her supposedly boyfriend further.

"What's wrong about sunglasses anyway?! They're cool things to wear!" the red headed fukutaichou defended.

"Yeah, but yours are just plainly ridiculous." Rukia added. "Sometimes I wonder how much money you spend for those useless things."

"At least Abarai still does his paperwork, unlike certain someone here." Hitsugaya grumbled. Karin stifled a laugh looking at her disgruntled boyfriend.

Rangiku tilted her head and cooed almost-too-innocently at her taichou. "Awww, Taichou, you don't mean that. I know you love me so much; too much for you to actually complain about me."

Hitsugaya glared at her, totally speechless. Everyone laughed at his vexed expression.

When the laughter fainted down, Uryuu, who had been silent all the time, suddenly inquired something intriguing.

"Speaking of Shizu, I feel rather curious about his past." Everyone looked at him with 'are you fucking kidding' expression on their faces. The bespectacled young man didn't falter and only raised his glasses further while continued. "I mean his past not as an Espada, but his past as human."

There was a heavy silence as everyone contemplating his words. Sure enough, they knew Shizu Uriya was formerly an arrancar, not to mention Cuarta Espada, namely Ulquiorra Schiffer. As he was living his life as hollow, he forgot all about his human life from before. So, when he was reborn as pure soul in Soul Society, he regained no memories except for his past life as Aizen's Espada. He deliberately stored it deep inside his mind though.

"I'm rather curious too." Orihime meekly added. "He rarely says anything private; even to me."

"Hmmmmm… so all of you want to know, hhhmmmm??"

The low, husky voice startled them and everyone turned around to the source of the voice, only to find Urahara Kisuke peeking through the slightly opened shoji door that lead to the inner room. He had his fan covering his mouth and his usual green and white striped hat shading his eyes. Nonetheless, they could see that his eyes glinting in some kind of unholy glee despite the shade.

"What do you mean, Getaboshi?!" Ichigo gruffly questioned.

The older man waved his fan in cheerful manner before exclaimed, "Ah, I just see that all of you are bored out of your mind. Sooo, I want you to come with me to the basement. I want to show you something."

Everyone stared at him dubiously.

"Why do you stare at me like that? It's not that I want to poison you to death, yanno?"

With those words said, they resignedly heaved their limbs to follow the eccentric scientist towards his said basement. Inwardly, they wondered: just what kind of craziness the ex-taichou wanted to show them this time? Honestly, the said man had the crankiest brain in the entire Soul Society. Not to mention, he also had a knack to invent things which were totally out of mind just to surprise them.

Not that all of his inventions were useless, though.

The group was slightly surprised when the shopkeeper led them to another room of his disturbingly familiar basement. He didn't lead them towards the usual vast area of his training ground; rather, he led them towards a dimly lit room on the farthest corner of the previously unknown path beside the training ground. It seemed that the room was purposely kept hidden by the owner of the store himself. They doubted that even Tessai knew about this particular room.

Urahara opened the wooden door leading to the room and gestured them to get in. Half-wary, half-excited, the motley band strolled inside the room only to be greeted by the sight of a very huge refrigerator-like machine which beeping and humming constantly. The air suddenly dropped in temperature, causing them to shiver in cold; save Hitsugaya and Rukia, whose ice as their elements.

"What the hell is _that_?" Renji voiced the question that had been popping within their mind loudly. He pointed towards the machine.

Urahara grinned maniacally, making Ichigo and several others drew back in caution. That grin was definitely _not_ a good sign.

"This," the shady shopkeeper exclaimed somehow proudly, "This, my friends, is my latest invention, the greatest thing I've ever invented in my entire life"—he deliberately ignored the distinct snort and scoff and some murmurs that sounded suspiciously like 'then how about Hougyoku?'—"This lovely babe—("_Babe_???!! WTF?!" courtesy of both Renji and Ikkaku)—is named…"

He paused to add some dramatized aura. His listeners were utterly un-amused, though, save Orihime, who squealing excitedly.

"…**SUPER DUPER HYPER AWESOMELY, MAGNIFICENTLY, WONDERFUL MEMORY VIRTUAL VISUALIZING MACHINE**!!!"

….........

………_what?_

'…_WTF… what a sense of naming is that??_' was the only thing they had in their minds (save Orihime, of course, who 'ooohh'ed at Urahara and beamed a cheerful smile at him) as they sweat-dropped at both Urahara's naming and his antic (he danced some kind of victory dance, waving his fan around cheerfully while dragging Orihime to dance with him).

"Wow, Urahara-san, it sounds so spectacular! I wonder what its use!" the red headed girl squealed merrily.

Urahara grinned. "Like I've said before, this is Memory Virtual Visualizing Machine. Its use is to visualize in virtual image and sensation things that are stored within someone's memory. It's similar like video recorder and player all-in-one package."

"…You mean," Uryuu deadpanned, "With this machine, we can look into someone's memory and mind, right?"

"That's right, my dear Quincy!" the shopkeeper beamed in singsong voice. Uryuu glared at him for Urahara's last call to him.

"So, what's the deal, Getaboshi? You want us to peer into your memory or what?" Ichigo teased, smirking. Somehow the idea was tempting for them; even Hitsugaya thought that was a good idea. Maybe they would find something gold within Urahara's memory that they could use as blackmail later. Something about his early relationship with Yoruichi, maybe… or his embarrassing moments while he was still occupying as a taichou in Gotei 13…

"No, no, no, not that. Besides, if you want to know about my early relationship with Yoruichi-san or my embarrassing moments while I'm still in Gotei 13, you can just ask me. Or Hiyori; since she is formerly my fukutaichou in 12th division." He winked flirtatiously.

……..

…_Did he just fucking read our mind???!!!_

Ignoring his now gawking audience, Urahara continued.

"Ishida-kun, you said that you were curious of Uriya-kun's past, ne?"

His question caught Uryuu off guard as he stammered a 'yes'.

"Well, within this machine I've put a bit of his memory, along with other ex-Espada's memories. Well, although only the Espada I've brought back to life who have their memories inputted within this machine. It means… lessee… Starrk-san, Halibel-san, Nnoitra-kun, Grimmjow-kun, Szayel-kun, Nel-chan, Lily-chan, Tesla-kun, Apache-chan, Mila-chan, Sun-chan, and, of course, our dear Ulquiorra-kun, who have their memories inputted. Interesting, ne?"

Everyone gaped at him. Ichigo then exploded, "Goddamn it, Getaboshi! Is that even legal?! Do they know about this?! Does Uriya _know_ about this?!"

Urahara's already wide grin widened more than before which they began to suspect his face would be split in half. Somehow, he reminded them of one certain ever-smiling dead person.

"Of course… NOT."

Ichigo began screaming profanities at him, which the shady shopkeeper deliberately ignored.

"Ah, Ichigo-kun, don't be such mood-crusher. Anyhow, you're also curious about Uriya-kun's past, ne?"

This made Ichigo stopped his ranting and scowled fiercely at him, before he finally looked away while muttering something that suspiciously sounded like 'not that I really want to know, dammit'.

"Oookay, let's begin this experiment!" Urahara waved his fan and walked towards his said machine.

"So you expect us to be your guinea pigs, Urahara?" Hitsugaya deadpanned.

The shopkeeper only smirked.

"Why don't you do it by yourself if you're this curious?" Tatsuki piped.

"I can't; since this machine have to be controlled from the outside. I don't invent the screen to present the outcome yet."

There was a pregnant pause when everyone pondering about their chance to watch the former Espada's past memories. The decision was somehow made when Rukia finally spoke.

"Alright. Bring it on, Urahara."

"Rukia! It's violating someone's privacy!" her boyfriend scolded. "Besides, it's Uriya's!"

"But I'm curious. I won't sleep well in the night when I'm this curious, Ichigo." The raven haired girl whined and managed to use her famous puppy eyes to silence her grumbling boyfriend. She succeeded.

"Okay, bring it on, Urahara-san." Tatsuki confidently seconded Rukia.

The shopkeeper smirked and pushed a button to make the machine's door open.

"Okay, all you have to do is entering this machine and watch. I will control everything from the outside. Buut… I can't control whose memory which present first. It will be randomly presented."

Everyone nodded in unison. Ichigo was still grumbling and Hitsugaya still managed to look uninterested, but somehow they complied when Urahara cued them to get inside the machine.

Warily, they stepped inside the dark chamber of the weird machine before Urahara closed the door and began his experiment.

###


	2. Chapter 2: Grimmjow

I am so fucked up…

Hello, long time no see in this series. I focus on finishing 'Alive' so I kinda neglect this story.

Anyway, here's another chapter of PTotE. It's kinda off… since I had a writer's block when I wrote this one.

The first one to go is Grimmjow, ehehehe…

On to the story…

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**Grimmjow Jaggerjaques: The Alley Cat**

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"…It's dark in here."

"Shit, I'm cold. Someone tell me the reason why in the first place I have agreed to follow this inanity."

"No one asked you to come, Renji. Well, beside Urahara, of course."

"Just shut the fuck up, ya morons."

"What did you call me, Ikkaku?"

"…Nothin', Yumi."

"Just shut your goddamn traps, all of you."

"Yes, Hitsugaya-taichou."

"You cussed, Toushiro."

"It's Hitsugaya-taichou for you, Kurosaki."

"Che, whatever, Toushiro… by the way, it's Kurosaki-taichou for you too, shrimp."

"…"

**THUNK**

"SHIT! That's hurt, Toushiro."

"Serve you best, Kurosaki."

"Che. Whatever…"

………

Whatever they bickering about immediately stopped when the sudden light blaring and blinding their sight for a moment. When they finally regained their sighting, they were shocked to see foreign scenery surrounding them.

A dark alleyway with dim lightning was cast in front of them. The lightning came from one lamp pole. The pole was old and rusty, shaped in some kind of gothic styled feature. The alley was narrow, almost like just a slight gap between buildings, with sickeningly damp path and stenches of whatever things rotten out there.

It was a night time, they recognized; although they couldn't guess what time it was. The group could clearly look, smell, and hear whatever things happened out there; and as far as they stood there, analyzing and comprehending their situation, they didn't hear or see anything else besides the sound of the wind and the darkness that surrounding the alleyway.

"…Any idea where this place is, guys?" Ichigo solemnly asked. His friends grunted a 'no' simultaneously.

Uryuu however saw something. He slowly walked to the nearest wall and found a leaflet being plastered to the wall. The paper was wet and already torn in half, mostly because of the rain. The texts were in smudge and it took moments for him to decipher the words. He read the content carefully and gasped softly.

His friends heard him gasp and turned their attention towards the Quincy. "What's wrong, Ishida?" Ichigo asked.

"Le Troupe de Ciél—Rainbow's Troupe… it's said that they will perform from five to midnight for a week in May…"

There were collectively audible groans coming from the others, most distinctly from Ichigo and Renji.

"The hell, Ishida, we're not here to watch some circus—"

"I'm not done yet!" the Quincy snapped in exasperation. "…In the leaflet, it's said that the circus will be held in May 1887—"

"1887?!" Ichigo bellowed, shocked.

"It's almost one and half century ago." Tatsuki commented.

"It means… whoever owns this memory lived during that period of time." Hitsugaya concluded.

"—and the leaflet is written in French." Ishida prompted, calmly pushing his glasses upward. "It means that the memory owner is a Frenchman. And this place is in French."

There was a loud crash coming from the corner of the alley. The group snapped their heads almost simultaneously towards the source of the sound and saw a blur of black and slight of electric blue skidding towards their position.

"…That _thing_ heads here," Ikkaku murmured, "And within minutes, it will collide with us."

When the thing finally approached them, everyone moved to the side, flattening their bodies to the wall, to allow it to pass. Orihime however didn't move fast enough; so the thing just happened to collide with her right in the middle of the alley.

"Orihime! Watch out!" Tatsuki yelled and tried to grab her friend to the side. But it was too late.

Orihime screamed as the thing approached her in frenzied speed. But instead of colliding, the thing—no, the man in black garb—ran through her body.

He ran _through_ her body as if Orihime was only a shadow or ghost.

The red headed girl gasped loudly as he went through her limbs, feeling a whoosh of the wind as the man running past her. But what she saw as he faced her right before the passing was mostly one thing that made her shocked. His face was undoubtedly familiar.

"Grimmjow!!"

As she shouted, the rest of the group snapped their heads to see more clearly the form of the young man clad in black running away with his back on them. Even though they couldn't see his face, the distinctly electric blue hair gave away his identity.

"…Unmistakably, it's Grimmjow Jaggerjaques. Blue hair gives away." Hitsugaya remarked blandly.

"…Grimmjow," Ichigo murmured softly, frowned. "…So this is within his memory."

"After him!!"

"Jaggerjaques!!"

"Don't think you can run away from us, Grimm!!"

Yells and profanities could be heard from the same direction as Grimmjow run from. Several men clad in similarly white shirts, black tight-pants, and black vests were running after the blue haired man. Their faces contorted in pure rage and fury as they gave the young man a hot pursue. Within their hands, there were weapons and tools in various shapes; one man even carried a riffle.

"They are after him."

"Just what's going on exactly?"

"Dunno…"

………

—_mustn't be caught—_

—_run, run faster—_

—_Pantera—_

—_Father, how could you—_

—_Mother—_

—_Pantera—_

—_must run—_

—_run! Run!—_

_**RUN!!**_

"…Guys…" Renji whispered hesitantly. "…Do you hear that?"

"…Yeah…" Ichigo responded, "…Sounds like Grimmjow's voice."

"His inner voice, I guess." Uryuu concluded.

"How do you know that?" Ikkaku asked him curiously.

"Well, I don't, but I think since we are inside his memory then… maybe it's possible to hear all he thinks within his mind too, right?"

"…Sounds plausible to me." Hitsugaya seconded him.

###

Grimmjow was running and running like a mad man.

Behind him, several men, his father's henchmen, were after him in hot pursuing. No, he wouldn't let himself caught; his life was at stake if they could catch up with him. And his mother, oh God… his mother…

_Mother is dead_.

Grimmjow thought bitterly, holding his tears from bursting down his cheeks. He wouldn't cry; no, he was a Jaggerjaques, and Jaggerjaques never cried. Jaggerjaques had to be strong, his mother once told him. He had to be strong…

Strangled mewls could be heard from the bundle within his arms. Grimmjow looked down, still struggling to run away from his pursuer. Upon seeing the object within his cradle, he smiled softly.

"…Pantera… don't worry… we'll be alright…"

He smiled again when the black cat named Pantera—his mother's precious cat—mewl as if responding to his words. There was nothing left from his mother that he could keep by himself, save Pantera. The black cat with sparkling blue eyes—his mother always said that Pantera and him had similarly adorable blue eyes—and odd bluish markings right under its eyes was his mother's only memento. So Grimmjow didn't want to lose the cat; not now and later. He would keep it; protect it; since he couldn't protect his mother from his own father…

………

Blue was always his color. His hair was previously blue-black, but during his growth, his hair color was strangely faded, leaving his hair in this electric blue color. How odd, his mother once commented, but it was adorable. His mother liked his hair color, so he kept it rather than dyed it back to blue-black.

On the other hand, his father hated it. But, well, as long as he remembered, his father had always hated him. He had heard his servants tittle-tattled about him wasn't his father' son. He was surprised to hear it, indeed; but he paid no mind about it. As long as his mother was happy, he didn't care about everything ugly in the little world he lived.

His mother, his beloved mother… how much Grimmjow loved his mother. And he knew he would always feel deep remorse and sorrow for not being able to save her.

He had let her being killed.

………

Grimmjow snapped back from his short reverie by the sound of Pantera hissing fiercely. He glanced frantically and saw that his pursuers were still on his tail. He was still running; on some point, his body had been moving automatically without his brain's direct order. He felt tired, so much tired; but he couldn't stop—they would catch him for sure. And he didn't want that happen.

Pantera hissed more ferociously and started to struggle against the confining of his arms. Grimmjow gasped and hissed in pain as Pantera clawed his forearms. He tried vainly to restrain the cat within his arms once more, but the cat resisted and finally sprung free.

"PANTERA!!" he yelled from the top of his lungs as Pantera leapt from his arms and ran away to the opposite direction.

_Damn… Pantera's running towards them… I can't move back… they will catch me… but Pantera… Pantera… I can't lose him either… Pantera… Mother…_

_Pantera…_

_Mother…_

Grimmjow almost skidded on his halt; his shoes made screeching noises on the pavement. He decided to run after Pantera. So he turned around and prepared himself for whatever coming to him; but he was deadly sure he didn't prepare himself enough to see this…

One of the henchmen had his shovel hitting Pantera's head. The poor thing didn't even have time to meow and gurgled to death before the man hit once more and successfully silenced it forever. He laughed sinisterly and flung the remnants forward. It fell right in front of Grimmjow, who stared at it blankly.

_Pantera…_

_Mother…_

_Dead…_

_Dead._

_**Dead!**_

………

"NOOOO!!!" Grimmjow howled sorrowfully.

He didn't care about anything anymore. Damn his father! Damn his lapdogs! Damn everyone!

_Damn the world!_

He had lost everything dear to him. His mother… Pantera…

And these were all of his father's faults.

His father's faults.

Grimmjow growled in feral manner and lunged forward, aiming his fist towards one of the men's face. His hard fist connected with a jaw and he was satisfied when a loud crack could be heard, along with a pained groan. The man fell and Grimmjow stomped on his forgotten riffle, successfully breaking it in pieces.

One man down, the blue haired young man ducked as a shovel being swung at the direction of his head. He grabbed it instead, snatched it and threw the offending thing away. He then launched a punch towards the man's stomach. The said man gurgled on his blood courtesy of Grimmjow's hard blow and succumbed to his knees. Grimmjow delivered a hard kick to his side, ending his pain rather instantly as he fell unconscious.

Two more left, Grimmjow thought as a wild and sadistic smile began to tug on the corner of his mouth. He let out a full-blown-maniacal grin as he avoided a kick and instead caught the offending appendage. He twisted it in sickeningly fast movement and broke the leg. The man yowled in pain and agony before Grimmjow snatched the shovel from his grips and used it to hit the poor man's head repeatedly, over and over…

"This—"

**WHACK!**

"—is—"

**WHACK! CRACK!**

"—for—"

**CRACK! WHACK!**

**SPLOTCH!**

"—Pantera!!"

**THWACK!** SPLOTCH…

SPLOTCH…

DRIP…

Drip…

………

Grimmjow totally forgot the only man left as he repeatedly beat Pantera's killer to death. As he turned around to leave—a satisfied grin plastered on his face—his vision turned all black as he felt his head was hit by something hard.

The last thing he saw before he lost his consciousness was Pantera's blue eyes staring at him blankly from its spot on the other side of the pavement…

###

Blackness once again enveloped their surrounding as Grimmjow lost his consciousness.

No one moved nor talked as they stood still, shocked beyond belief.

"…That was …awful…" Tatsuki muttered in disgust. Everyone grunted in agreement. Orihime had covered her eyes and clutched her best friend's arm, sobbing slightly.

Everyone was utterly shocked, save for Ikkaku and Yumichika. They commented absently that they had seen worse things during their life in one of the worst Rukongai districts ever. Though still shocked, Rukia and Renji muttered their agreement, since they were formerly living in one of the worst parts of Rukongai as well. Ichigo was silent.

"…That's it? That's all of it?" Hitsugaya coldly asked no one in particular.

"Taichou, you shouldn't be so cold about that." Rangiku admonished him.

"Well, I'm just speaking the tru—"

Hitsugaya's words were cut by a sudden blasting light pouring over them. Before them, there was a scene of capacious, spacey living room—or rather, ball room—with crystal chandelier, fine furniture and all. There were several people within the room; all of them wearing the same attires of black slack, white shirt, and black vest.

One man was wearing such distinct attire than the others though. He seemed regal with his black silk tails and long trousers, starched white shirt, burgundy scarf, and black top hat. He had a cane with golden eagle as its handle and shiny, spotless black leather shoes. His immaculate-styled scarf was pinned with a brooch made in gold and precious stones. It resembled an eagle's head.

The man himself was old; not older than fifty but he was certainly in his middle forty. He had neatly combed gray hair; black slim, neatly kept moustache; and sharp, prominent visage. He had cold blue-gray eyes, pointy nose, thin lips, and sharp chin. He seemed arrogant, clearly the man who usually looked down at another people. Somehow he reminded both Karin and Tatsuki of Scrooge from The Christmas Carol; albeit this person was slightly crueler in his overall looks.

On the floor—the watchers barely recognized—Grimmjow was sitting in folded knees. He was all bloody mess, with his face covered in fresh gash and bruises. His clothes were torn and disheveled, wet and dirty from rain, mud, and blood. Mostly, it was from blood.

Despite his worn out appearance, Grimmjow's blue eyes gleamed in anger and determination. He mostly glared at the arrogant man—who did seem unfazed by his glare.

"_You!"_ the blue haired young man hissed venomously at the man. The latter only glanced coldly at him and eventually looked at one of his henchmen.

"The cat?" he asked evenly.

"Dead," his henchman answered.

The man seemed to seethe, though he almost instantly composed himself and stayed calm. Yet his eyes gleamed in silent fury. He glowered at his subordinates, who had deliberately lowered their heads, not daring to oppose his glower.

"_Insignificant fools!"_ he gritted his teeth, furious. "The cat is the most important thing that woman left. She kept the letter with the cat and the code is crucial. But you had to kill the cat, you imbeciles!!"

"But—but, there's nothing attached to the cat! Not even a single ribbon!"

"What about its tag?"

"It didn't have one."

The man, still furious, contemplated the fact. He rubbed his chin and eventually turned his eyes at Grimmjow. Tipping his chin thoughtfully using his well-manicured finger, he questioned Grimmjow.

"Well, son, do you know something? Anything?" he cooed. Grimmjow flinched in disgust.

"I'm not your fucking son." He spat heatedly.

"I'll spare your life if you tell me where that woman hides the crucial code."

"I don't get your shitty words." Grimmjow grinned. "And I don't care."

The man narrowed his eyes in sudden anger. Using his cane, he hit Grimmjow's jaw hard several times until the young man practically drenched in his own blood. Grimmjow panted harshly, but didn't even wince. Instead he kept grinning.

"You—you infernal thing!! You and that woman dare to mock me, huh?!" Grimmjow's father bellowed angrily. He was still hitting Grimmjow repeatedly using his cane. "One thing is right, though. You're not my son; you're just infernal thing born from that woman's womb! You worthless scum! And your mother's bitch!!"

"DON'T YOU DARE CALLING MY MOTHER BITCH, YOU FUCKING SHIT!!" Grimmjow raged, trying to break free from his confinement. His sudden rampage startled his father and the others within the hall. His father halted his hitting.

"DON'T YOU EVER CALLING HER BITCH ANYMORE OR ELSE…!!"

"Or else… what?" his father chuckled mockingly. "Grimmjow, you're powerless. You didn't even have any strength to protect your mother."

Grimmjow was silent.

"I know that you know about the code, son. Don't be such a hardhead." His father tried to coax him again. "Just tell me already."

Grimmjow was still silent.

Of course he knew about the code. His mother kept their wealth and family property safe from his father's grasp. She kept the validity of the property's ownership within a letter, sealed by the family's legitimate seal. The Jaggerjaques was one of the richest families in French. Though not as infamous as the Polignac, who had both wealth and political influence, they had quite a name. And one hell amount of money and private properties at that.

His mother was the true heir of the family. His father was married to his mother and adopted into the family, becoming a Jaggerjaques. So, technically and legally, he didn't even have any right to possess all of Jaggerjaques' wealth. Grimmjow knew that. His mother knew that.

His father was one hell of fucking greedy old bastard.

"…So you're dying to know where the legitimate letter is?" Grimmjow slowly spoke.

His father nodded fervently. "Yes, Grimm, tell me, son. Tell me where the letter is."

Grimmjow smiled. True, sincere yet sad smile.

"Pantera had the code embedded on its tag, true. But I've gotten rid of it right after I found out that you killed mother."

His father growled. "You—!"

"I read the code. I memorize it and wrote it on the small notes."

"Where?! Where is the note now?!"

Grimmjow' smile faded and replaced by his trademark grin.

"I swallowed it."

"_WHAT?!!"_

"You'll never lay your hand on mother's property. It's mine now. I'm the real Jaggerjaques." He cackled wryly. "You were just nobody before you came into the family. And you're still nobody."

Infuriated, Grimmjow's father stomped towards one of his henchmen and yanked a riffle. He fervently pointed the riffle towards Grimmjow and snarled, "I swear I kill you, you—you scum!!"

Grimmjow still grinned, though a bit faltered. "Even if I die, you'll never get the money and property. Mother knew about your vile plan. She had made two letters. One being a legitimate will, in case I survived; and thus I would be the one who inherit the wealth. The other one was the 'plan B' letter, another will that was made in case I didn't survive this—same as mother did—and couldn't afford the wealth. The letter stated that if I and mother die, the entire wealth of Jaggerjaques will be contributed to several orphanages all around this country."

Grimmjow paused before continued in gleeful voice. "And I have anticipated this. I have sent the 'plan B' letter to the trustworthy lawyer somewhere in this country. Undoubtedly, he will execute my request well. You have no chance. I win this round, _father_."

Screaming in rage and frustration, Grimmjow's father released the trigger of the riffle and shot Grimmjow. The bullet penetrated his abdomen with sickening sound of splattering blood and ripped flesh, successfully making a hole on the young man's abdomen.

Grimmjow choked his own blood. He fell backward and hit the floor, drenching himself in his own puddle of blood. His blue eyes were still wide open, glazed and slowly losing their focus. He was dying.

He had thought he would be killed soon or later, so he wasn't quite surprised by his father's action. Inwardly he felt mad for being killed so recklessly but on the other hand, he was satisfied as he dimly saw his father's enraged expression.

"…I… lied…" he gasped in between his gurgles of blood. "…Even… though… you shot… a hole…on my stomach… you'll… never… get… the code …heh heh…"

His father glowered at him. "What…?!"

"…I… didn't… swallow… the note…" he cackled weakly. He gurgled in blood again. "…There… is… no… fucking… note…"

His father and the henchmen were silent as Grimmjow cackled almost maniacally despite his dying condition.

"…You… lost… I… won…" Grimmjow's voice weakened. "…I'm… Grimmjow Jaggerjaques… I'll be… the… king… not… you… or… anybody… else…"

Another shot rang through the silent hall.

The young man cackled for the last time before his father blew his jaw off.

_I won, bastard._

Somehow Grimmjow's eerie cackle still echoed through the now silent hall. The echo was even superior to the shot's ringing. Everyone shivered in sudden fear.

###

Blackness once more surrounded the watching group.

As the machine stopped its operation and the door towards Urahara's secret chamber was opened, they wordlessly walked out the compartment.

Nobody talked. And they wore the grim and dark expression on their faces, even Matsumoto.

Urahara watched in confusion as they walked out silently from the machine.

"Well, how is it?"

They turned to regard him somehow wearily and almost simultaneously shook their heads.

"…Urahara, I suggest you destroy that thing." It was Hitsugaya who talked rather darkly. He was tightly holding Karin on her shoulder.

"Huh? Why? Didn't it work well?"

"It worked well, dammit." Ichigo growled. "It's just—just inappropriate."

"What inappropriate?" Urahara asked innocently.

"The spying, goddamnit!!" the orange haired taichou exploded. "It crosses their privacy."

Urahara raised his brows speculatively; nonetheless he ignored Ichigo's ranting and asked, "Whose memory did you see?"

Ichigo tried to strangle the older man, but Rukia held him tight.

"It was Grimmjow's." Orihime answered rather weakly. She clung to Tatsuki, who hugged her.

"Oh? The destination doesn't go quite well then." He glanced at Ichigo, and then at Ishida. "Ishida-kun's curiosity towards Ulquiorra-kun's past isn't fulfilled yet, ne?"

Ishida mumbled a 'yes', but he, too, seconded Ichigo for stopping the experiment.

"Why not? It's not that you deliberately choose which memory you want to see anyway." Urahara reasoned. Somehow his reason didn't make any sense for them.

"We know, but—"

Ishida's words were cut by a long beep coming from the machine. Urahara rushed towards the machine and after several attempts of crazy typing and click-clacking the devices attached to the machine, he 'phew'-ed with satisfied whistle.

"Another memory has been finished installed. Now… whose memory it is?" he drawled, practically ignoring the group behind him. "…Well, it seems I have to find another volunteer for this experiment. I wonder if Jinta and Ururu would—"

"HOLD IT!!" Renji bellowed angrily. "You want to make those two as your guinea pigs?!"

Urahara looked at him, surprised. "Why not? It's not that bad, isn't it? Being inside the machine and watch all those interesting memories. It's like watching movie, I guess."

"For one thing, Urahara, it's not even movie." Ichigo seethed. "It's fucking someone's memory!"

Urahara shrugged. "Well, there always be a first for everything, right?"

The group was speechless.

"Now, who's next volunteer?"

Renji muttered through gritted teeth. "…As long as you don't drag those two kids down here and watch the entire gory scenes, I will be your damn volunteer."

He strode inside the machine. Tatsuki followed him after a second. One by one, they walked inside the machine once more, even Hitsugaya and Orihime.

Chuckling, Urahara began to operate the machine into full-time released memories.

"Next time, there'll be no break."

###

* * *

A/N: Sorry if I digress…

It kinda sucks, you know. I hate this story…

Oh well, let's hope that the next one(s) will be more enjoyable…


	3. Chapter 3: Nnoitra and Nelliel

Hi, long time no see!

Sorry for the very, _very_ late posting! I had difficulty to flourish the idea of their past so…well…

And the result of the delay is this GODDAMN MONSTER CHAPTER! HOLY SHIT!

THIS MUST BE THE LONGEST CHAPTER I HAVE EVER WRITTEN IN MY ENTIRE HISTORY AFTER BECOMING A FANFICTION WRITER!

…

Oh, crap…that is just a capslock abuse. So, on to the story! Don't be confused with the point-of-view. Special for this story, I make each and every chapter with somehow jumbled POV, switching every now and then between the 3rd person POV and 1st person POV, so don't be confused and enjoy the ride.

Though, somehow I feel unsatisfied with this chapter…dunno why…

* * *

**Nnoitra Jiruga and Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck: One ****Bitch****y Fate**

**

* * *

**

Blackness once again enveloped them. Nobody talked; the only sound heard was the humming from the machine.

The tensed quietness was, however, broken by Matsumoto's murmur.

"…I wonder whose memory we will watch next…"

Hitsugaya snorted none too loudly. "I hope, whose memories those are, they will less gory than Jaggerjaques' memory back then."

"…I doubt it." Ishida slowly commented.

"Why is that, Ishida?" Tatsuki asked curiously.

"What is the main reason someone can become a hollow?" he asked back to everyone. They were silent so he continued rather darkly, "It's because they have lost their heart due to the suffering they have to endure during the death. Or because of their painful life. Or, because of their excessive affection or tie towards something in their life, whether it is their beloved person, their property, or something else. Mostly their beloved person, that's why when they turn into hollows, they will chase after them first."

"It's the theory, Ishida. We all know that." Renji scoffed. "What's the point anyway?"

The Quincy pushed his glasses upward—though nobody saw this because of the sheer darkness. "I mean, these memories we will witness, are the collection of their sorrowful, agonizing, and painful memories. This will be quite depressing to watch, if you ask me."

"…Even I know that." Renji muttered dejectedly.

Everyone was drowned once more in uncomfortable silence until they heard a shrill cry. A pained one at that, they recognized.

"What the hell is that?" Ikkaku murmured, aghast. Everyone muttered their 'I don't know' almost simultaneously.

They suddenly realized that the darkness was fading and replaced by a dim lit chamber.

"A locked chamber?" Ishida blurted out unthinkingly.

"A dungeon, if you ask me." Ichigo, who was strangely silent all this time, commented sardonically.

They looked around the small, confined chamber. It was poor lit, dirty and humid. There was one bed with thin blanket spread upon and a small, simple table with a chair. They were made from iron. A small cubicle was located on the cell's corner; they assumed it was some kind of toilet or something. And it was indeed a toilet, a poorly hygienic one at that.

Thunderous footsteps brought their attention to the barred door. Two men were coming into their sight; one was fatty and burly, while the other was extremely tall and lanky. The burly one eventually stopped before the chamber and unlocked the lock. He opened the barred door and shoved the lanky man inside.

They almost instantly recognized the lanky one. Most specifically, Chad, Ichigo and Orihime recognized the man. Ichigo deepened his scowl, while Orihime shuddered and clutched Tatsuki's hand more tightly. Chad, however, kept silent.

Tatsuki turned to regard her best friend. She was suddenly worried looking at the pallor of Orihime's visage.

"Orihime? What's wrong?"

Orihime only shook her head and eventually nuzzled Tatsuki's shoulder. The tomboy was confused—until she heard Ichigo's strained remark.

"It's him. Nnoitra Jiruga." The orange head hissed.

Tatsuki and the others looked at Ichigo and then at the lanky man who now turned around to face the burly one. The poor lightning gave away his face and it was indeed the ex Quinta Espada, Nnoitra Jiruga—minus his trademark eye patch. His slanted purple eyes gleamed with cold impassiveness, something that was unusual for him. He didn't have his normal toothy grin on his face, however. His raven hair was still long and languid, now tied in loose ponytail. He wore a simple brown tunic and matching loose trouser. All in all, he looked like a slave or, more likely, a prisoner.

"Good job, Jiruga." The burly man intoned. His thick moustache quivered when he let out a snide chuckle. He, however, missed Nnoitra's disgusted expression. "You're the best fighter we have here after all."

"…Of course, _Master_." Nnoitra drawled in monotone voice, somehow emphasizing the word 'master' in sheer loathing tone. If his master heard the insult, he didn't show it. "I live fer battle and battle only."

"That's right, Jiruga. You're my Angel of Despair. You live for battle only. My battle." The fatty man sneered as he turned to leave. "And you'll also die in battle. My battle, of course."

Feeling that it was unnecessary to counter the statement, Nnoitra kept silent. Though, his eyes narrowed in pure repugnance as he watched the fatty man swaggered out from the chamber. He sighed heavily and eventually sat down on the chair; though the furniture couldn't support his overall feature. He then raised both long legs onto the table, propping them together. He leaned onto the chair, rocking back and forth in idleness.

Closing his eyes in tiredness, the usually loud and obnoxious man only sighed once more and murmured faintly—though the group could hear the words clearly.

"I'm tired of this life… let me die already…"

###

Nnoitra startled awake by a pained cry.

He slumped on his chair once more when he recognized the sound.

_Another one dies…_

A man with grey uniform and stern, serious appearance appeared before his cell. Nnoitra squinted to see and recognized him as his jailer. No, not jailer—he was his _foreman_. Nnoitra almost snorted at this thought. _Foreman…_ as if he was a _normal_ worker…

"Jiruga, Master demands your presence." The man barked.

"What fer?" Nnoitra barked back. He didn't like this man.

"Work. What else?" he mocked and unlocked the door lock. He beckoned Nnoitra to stand up and walk towards him. The lanky man obliged, although indolently.

"Take a shower before and wear this." The jailer shoved some folded clothes to him. Nnoitra raised one of his non-existent brows as he looked at the clothes in his hands.

"What's _this_?"

"Your attire for today's work." The jailer's sneered. "You're lucky, Master likes you. At least you won't die quickly."

_I'd rather die quickly than be favored by the likes of him…_

"You'd better be quick. Master and his guests don't want to wait for long."

"Guests?"

The jailer sneered again, making Nnoitra somehow wanted to plant his punch on his hideous face.

"That's why I told you that you're lucky to be Master's favorite fighter. You can show off in front of his guests and, not to mention, his guests for today, well one for particular, is one hell of a babe."

Nnoitra scoffed. "_A woman?_ What's a _woman_ doin' in this hellish hole?"

"Dunno. Be quick and you'll find out."

The man scurried away when he heard his name being yelled. Nnoitra watched him go and then chuckled humorlessly.

"A woman, huh? I wonder who she is."

* * *

After taking a quick shower, Nnoitra donned his attire for today. He grimaced when he saw what he had to wear today: a ruffled white shirt and black tights. He was okay with the leather brown boots and the ornate belt, however. But tights? Ruffles? Puh-lease…

_I look like some fuckin' pansy…_

He noticed someone approaching him. He glanced to his side and watched as a middle aged man with grayish-light brown hair trudged towards his person, dragging something big behind him. The thing was covered in thick black cloth.

Nnoitra frowned. What was that thing anyway?

"…Yo, Nnoit." The man greeted him cheerfully. Nnoitra grimaced. He hated the nickname.

"Don't call me that, ya old fart! What's that thing ya drag around anyway?" he spat ruthlessly at the older man. The latter didn't seem to mind his rude words and proceeded to lean the thing on the nearby pillar.

"This… is your new weapon for today's work. The name is Santa Teresa."

"Santa Teresa? What a pansy name fer a weapon. Ya usually do better than that, ya old fart Jose." Nnoitra jeered, clearly mocking the blacksmith. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned his tall limb onto the wall.

Jose only smirked and pulled the cloth covering the aforementioned weapon. Nnoitra couldn't help but gape at the weapon. It had a giant crescent moon-shaped blade and a long, sturdy handle. The weapon itself was as tall as him; even more, when it was being erected.

"_Ya—ya seriously consider me to wield this __**fuckin' huge**__ abomination of axe and scythe around?"_ he practically screeched in shock. Jose chuckled gaily.

"I know you can, Nnoit. You're the strongest fighter I've ever known in this whole hell-hole."

Nnoitra rolled his eyes and muttered. "Che, whatever. What's with the size anyway?"

"I made this special for you, yanno. There is no other in this entire world. It's special, only for you."

Nnoitra was still shocked, but slowly a toothy grin appeared on his face. "Special fer me, heh? So you really mean it, old fart?"

Jose laughed. "Of course. Oh, by the way, Tesla asked about you."

Nnoitra chuckled as he recalled the little blonde, Jose's smallest son. "If I don't know much, old man, I will bet my lunch that yer little spawn is in love with me."

Jose laughed louder. "Perhaps, Nnoit. I, honestly, don't take a shit about it anyway."

Seeing Nnoitra's suddenly pale face, the older man howled in another fit of laughter.

"Ye're kiddin', right? There's no way little Tesla falls fer me… right?" his voice was uncharacteristically shaky.

Jose spluttered for a while. "Of course, I'm kidding. My little Tes admires you, yes, but no, he doesn't fall for you. That's for sure."

"Howddya know?" Nnoitra skeptically asked.

"He dates this Loly girl. To be honest, I don't like that girl; she gives me the creep. But, oh well, Tesla likes to go out with her, how can I say no to him?" Jose sighed good-naturedly.

Nnoitra snorted. "Ya're spoilin' him too much, old fart. Tesla will surely grow up as a weak man if ya spoil him too much."

"Maybe. Can't help it, Nnoit. My dead wife made me promise to take care of him. Well, he's the only living son I have now." His voice faltered. Nnoitra, however, knew the cue and didn't utter any word.

Jose's family, aside from himself and Tesla, were dead because of the accident on the mining site. Nnoitra and Jose's master, Juan Carlo de Karras, was the owner of one biggest charcoal mines in the entire Spain. Not to mention, the host of the deadliest illegal underground bout, where Nnoitra currently joined.

"Try the weapon, Nnoit. Be accustomed with her."

"_Her?_ This weapon is a _she_? Jose, ya're one sick old man."

Jose only chuckled at Nnoitra's disgusted face.

Nevertheless, he picked the giant axe-scythe and weighed it on his arm. It was heavy, but he surely could handle it. He saw that the weapon had a long chain on its end of the handle.

"Old fart, what's this chain fer?"

"Oh, you can attach the belt-like chain onto your waist. Say, it's your personal holster of Santa Teresa."

Nnoitra grinned. "…Somehow, I like it, old man. Thanks."

Jose smiled. "Anytime, lad. Anytime."

* * *

Carrying his new weapon on his shoulder, Nnoitra strode towards his master's huge hacienda.

He didn't stop to greet anyone; he just kept walking towards his destination. He had been already ten minutes late, courtesy of his small talk with Jose. Not that he minded it. He would rather spend his time talking with the old fart than facing his master at that time.

Arriving at the inner field of the hacienda, he spotted his master standing with his guests near the fountain. But what drew his attention more was the person standing beside his fatty employer. The person was a woman with gorgeously curvaceous body, who was clad in white ruffled gown; and she had wavy green hair.

Nnoitra raised his non-existent brows. _Green hair? What a weird woman… but she definitely has nice body and rack to compliment…_

His master chose the time to wave at him, much to his chagrin.

"Ahh, Jiruga, nice timing." He then waved his fatty arm towards his guests, who consisted of the gorgeous woman and a frail old man—most likely her father or uncle, Nnoitra mused. They had similar green hair for sure.

"This is Herr Adolph Tu Odelschwanck and his daughter, Fraulein Nelliel. They are my business acquaintances." Juan Carlo tried to imitate German's accent when he addressed them, but failed miserably. Nnoitra did his best not to snort openly at his master's blatant silliness. He, however, didn't miss Neliel's attempt to hide her smirk behind her gloved hand.

Nnoitra noted her beautiful hazel eyes and somehow childish face. Her smile was radiant and cheerful. Her assets—Nnoitra _almost_ gawked at them—were marvelous, both in size and appearance. Her hips were wide and feminine, her waist slim. The gown, however, did almost nothing to conceal her overall appealing, feminine features. Nnoitra could imagine the heavenly shaped and long legs under the confinement of her ruffled dress.

_She's gorgeous…_

"I told my guests here that you, Nnoitra Jiruga, are the strongest fighter I've ever owned in my hacienda. Fraulein Nelliel, however, is a practitioner of martial art. When she heard about you, she instantly wants to fight against you, Jiruga."

Nnoitra's eyes widened. This _…woman_ wanted to fight him? It was joke, wasn't it? No matter how skilled, how strong—how _utterly attractive_—a woman shouldn't be superior from or even equal with a man. No, a woman shouldn't be above a man. Women's place was below men. It was nature's law. Nnoitra firmly believed that.

"No shit." He spat, earning a glare from his master and a wide-eyes from both Tu Odelschwanck. "Ya're sick-jokin', Master. There's no way a woman like her can fight me on par. Women can't fight—they shouldn't fight! Their place is beneath us, men!"

His words were ambiguous in meaning, making Juan Carlo grinning in lecherous way—though he still maintained his glare towards his subordinate—and Nelliel to redden, either in fury or embarrassment, Nnoitra didn't know. And he didn't give a shit, really.

"Excuse me?" she inquired quietly, though with her somehow childish voice, the question came out less quiet. It didn't even sound intimidating Nnoitra felt laughing from hearing it.

Nnoitra scoffed rudely. "Ya're a woman, thus ya can't fight me, missy. Fighting ain't women's plaything."

Nelliel's eyes narrowed; she was offended. "Oh, really? What about a round then?"

Nnoitra glared at her. "I ain't fightin' ya."

"You're scared, hmm?"

"Hell no!" Nnoitra was infuriated. How dare this—this female challenge him! "What's the deal, woman?"

Nelliel smirked, promptly ignoring Nnoitra's rude remark or her father's worried glance. "A fair round, one-on-one, free style. You can use…" she paused as she pointed at Santa Teresa in his hand, "…your weapon there and I will use mine. Whoever wins can ask for whatever thing from the loser."

Scowling, Nnoitra eventually agreed. "Fine, woman. When? Where?"

"An hour later, here. Deal?" she glanced at Juan Carlo and the fatty man nodded.

"'Kay! Deal!"

* * *

"Nel dear, you shouldn't fight against that man." Adolph Tu Odelschwanck literally begged her daughter. "He seems dangerous! And he's also rude, uncouth, impolite—"

Nelliel smiled at her beloved father while she checked on her favorite blade. She had changed her attire into a plain blouse and black tights. She also wore black boots; and a matching belt around her slim waist. "Father, I assure you there will be no harm in this fight. I'll win for sure."

"Honey, he isn't one of your sparring partners! He is a true gladiator or warrior or whatever term Senor de Karras calls him! He can seriously harm you!"

Nelliel gave her father one of her radiant smiles.

"Father, I'll win. I will definitely win."

* * *

_That woman! Bitch! How dare she—!_

Nnoitra fumed as he adjusted and readjusted his boots. He then checked on Santa Teresa and tried to swing the axe-scythe several times to get more feeling using the weapon. He was thankful he was adept to wielding more than one weapon easily.

_Sure, she's an absolute goddess—what's with that guitar's shape and marvelous tits—but still, she's a bitch! The nerve of that female! Challenging me like that!_

Nevertheless, Nnoitra's mind strayed to another thought; another kind of _…fight._

He imagined how it would feel embracing Nelliel, kissing her, making love to her… he shook his head vigorously.

Nnoitra Jiruga didn't fall for any woman. He would probably sleep with them, but he wouldn't fall for any woman. Especially woman like Nelliel…

Nnoitra Jiruga _definitely_ didn't love.

His life was solely for battle. Only for battle.

* * *

Santa Teresa clashed against Gamuza with screeching sound.

Their wielders pushed against each other for a while before released their entanglement. Purple orbs met hazel ones. They glared at each other.

"…Heh, not bad fer a woman." Nnoitra panted. A toothy smirk appeared on his face.

"You're not bad either, lanky." Nelliel rasped back.

They had sparred for a good thirty minutes. Herr Tu Odelschwanck and Senor de Karras watched from their vantage spot on the nearest balcony.

Nelliel was surprisingly a good fighter as Nnoitra noted after several minutes sparring. She could attack, hold, and dodge his assaults similarly well, if not better. Somehow Nnoitra felt discouraged.

Could she truly defeat him?

_No! Never! Not a chance! The time I let a woman defeat me in my battle or be superior to me in whatever shit I'm in, it will be the time I die, fer sure!_

With a harsh cry, he launched another attack in the form of a swing from his Santa Teresa. Nelliel avoided most of the swing, of course; but the wind following the swing somehow disrupted her stance. She stumbled forward and Nnoitra used this chance to swing another attack towards her.

Santa Teresa's blade almost hit her back if it wasn't for her swiftness by rolling aside, out from the attack's range. She maintained her stance and second later, she had charged towards Nnoitra. Stunned by her sudden assault, Nnoitra didn't have enough time to retract Santa Teresa and perform any counter attack. When Gamuza was thrust forward, he could only block with his left arm…

**CLANG!**

Santa Teresa was out of his hand, the chain severed from his waist. Nnoitra felt his weapon thrown from his grasp, clattering noisily on the pavement. Next moment he felt the cold tip of Nelliel's blade against his throat.

He was mortified.

He had lost the fight.

* * *

Nnoitra couldn't help but feel furious.

How come he lost his fight? To a mere female? He didn't need this—_this humiliation!_

"Kill me, woman."

Shock flickered within Nelliel's hazel eyes. She stared downward at Nnoitra's prone form—the man was still trying his hard to stand back, despite his large gash on his arm and shoulder where Gamuza had made a contact back then. Nelliel herself sustained some injuries, though none could be considered fatal or even serious. Only mere scratches and narrow gashes on her cheek and arms.

"…What?"

"_Kill me, goddammit!"_ Nnoitra yelled in desperate rage. "That's the way of living in my life! In every warrior's life! To die in their lost or to soar in their triumph! Finish me off! You've won the round! You should finish me off! Or else—"

"Or else… _what_, Nnoitra?" Nelliel regarded him somewhat coldly; her hazel eyes fixing on his. "Don't you remember we have an agreement considering the fight? _Whoever wins can ask for whatever things from the loser. _Do you forget that, Nnoitra?"

Nnoitra froze. He indeed forgot the treaty.

"Well then, I deny your death, Nnoitra." She told him solemnly. "I ask you to live. Even in humiliation of defeat."

Nnoitra still froze; eyes wide at her. Stupefied. _What the hell is she talking about? What the __**fuckin' hell**__ is she talking about?_

_Why? Why? Why is she denying my deserved death?_

"I ask you to live, Nnoitra. Say, it's the price you have to pay for your loss. Isn't it lucky for you, hmm?"

_Lucky? LUCKY? WHAT'S FUCKIN' LUCKY?_

_Please let me die…_

_**Why?**_

"Live, Nnoitra. I want you to live."

_Let me die, goddammit!_

_**WHY? GODDAMMIT! FUCKIN' BITCH!**_

* * *

"…Bitch."

Nelliel was shocked beyond belief. She couldn't believe her own ears.

_What did he call me?_

"What… do you call me?"

Nnoitra looked upward, locking his gaze with hers. He sneered.

"I call ya 'bitch', ya fuckin' bitch."

Nelliel was taken aback by the amount of hatred within those gorgeous purple orbs. Since she laid her eyes on him, she was instantly fascinated by those eyes. They hid considerable amount of emotions within: anger, contempt, bitterness …sorrow.

She slightly wondered; how did they look like when they reflected softness? Lust? Affection? _Love?_ She wanted to know; she wanted to get closer to this uncouth yet fascinating man.

She wanted him.

But now, the chance was gone as she saw the amount of hatred within those deep purple orbs. It hurt her to see the painful emotion within his eyes, especially when it was directed towards her, just like that.

Nelliel wondered what she had done to raise such deep hatred from him. And then she realized…

She had defeated him. In his fight. In his own field.

She had robbed his victory from him.

It was humiliating. It was unbearable. For a seasoned warrior to be defeated by a woman in their first fight, just like that. For once, Nelliel regretted her impulsiveness for challenging someone into fighting.

Her father was right; this man could _seriously_ harm her.

Not in any physical term, though. It hurt her just by looking into his wounded, humiliated eyes.

It deeply hurt her.

* * *

"What …do you call me?"

Nnoitra looked upward from his half-prone form, still trying vainly to stand on his own two feet. Blood flowed freely from the wound she had inflicted on his arm and shoulder. He felt dizzy, probably from a blood loss.

"I call ya 'bitch', ya fuckin' bitch!" he spat ruefully. He watched as her hazel eyes widened more. She was shell-shocked.

He saw a flash of hurt within her beautiful hazel eyes. He saw a brief ripple of hurt disrupt her composed feature; how her lips slightly parted in her shock, how her hands holding Gamuza quiver slightly…

…And he was suddenly struck by a shocking revelation: he didn't want to see that expression on her face anymore. It hurt him to see her so lost, so forlorn, so …pained…

_Hurt… so much…_

But he couldn't pull back his words. He couldn't swallow his pride to say sorry for her. He couldn't risk his entire life only for her… he knew it wasn't worth it…

She was so much different from him. So far, so ungraspable for him…

_It isn't worth it…_

His fight was his pride. He lived for battle and battle only. He was, like his master called, the Angel of Despair.

And she robbed his pride from him.

Yes—as Nnoitra darkly mused—she wasn't worth the pride…

"DON'T PITY ME, YA FUCKIN' BITCH! DON'T LOOK ME DOWN WITH YER FUCKIN' PITIFUL EYES, YA DAMN WHORE!" Nnoitra screamed in his despair.

"YA FUCKIN' BITCH! YA WHORE!" He continued his tirade. "I SWEAR TO HELL, EVEN IN MY AFTERLIFE, I WILL HUNT YA DOWN! I WILL BEAT YA SENSELESS! I WILL—I WILL—"

Nnoitra didn't hear his master's yell, commanding him to stop. He didn't hear thunderous footsteps which were coming from the other henchmen as they swiftly surrounded him. He _definitely_ didn't hear Nelliel's hitched breath as she tried her hard to stem her upcoming tears.

"I HATE YA! I HATE YA FUCKIN' BITCH!" Nnoitra halted as he panted for a breather. He stared at the ground with pained look. He felt his heart and gut clench painfully as if being crushed by heavy and massive talons, altogether. He didn't register as he was yanked forcefully and hauled towards the underground dungeon.

"…I hate ya, Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck…"

Soft sobs followed his each footstep towards his impending doom and Nnoitra Jiruga knew that the words he barely whispered were merely lies.

* * *

Nelliel tried her hard to stem her tears—to no avail.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

_His pain… it hurts so much…_

"Nel dear…" her father came to hug her. He had already prepared fresh towel and first aid kit to tend for her injuries. She let her father hug her as she eventually cried on his chest.

"Nel dear… it's alright, honey. It's alright now." Her father soothed her. "He's gone now. He won't harm you anymore. He won't scream at you anymore."

Nelliel froze.

_No, it's not that… Father, you're wrong… it's not that…_

"Your father is right, Fraulein Nelliel." Juan Carlo trotted until he stood beside his father. He sounded apologetic enough. "I do apologize for Jiruga's rude behavior. I will make sure he gets his punishment tomorrow morning."

_No…_

"Make sure he does, Senor de Karras." Herr Tu Odelschwanck reprimanded the other man firmly. "He injured and blatantly insulted my precious daughter. He has to be punished. Severely."

"Of course, Herr Tu Odelschwanck." Juan Carlo grimaced. "I'll make sure he does get his rightful punishment."

"…No…"

Nelliel's raspy murmur startled the two men.

"Nel dear, what did you say?" her father stared at her incredulously.

"No! It's not like that, Father!" Nel yelled out of her lungs. Her father and Juan Carlo stared at her like she had barely lost her last shred of sanity.

She shook her head fervently, over and over, in denial. "It's not like that… it's not like that…"

"Nel, dear… your head must be hurt quite hard after the spar," her father spoke softly at her. He had held her arm and half-ushered her into the inner part of the hacienda. Nel didn't object, though she still murmured her denial.

"Senor de Karras, would you please… the doctor…" her father pleaded the landlord.

"Of course, Herr Tu Odelschwanck, right away," the other man suavely responded.

"Nel, let's get inside and have your wounds treated, dear."

As her father took her arm and continued to lead her into one of the guest rooms, Nelliel couldn't think about anything else, except her guilt toward Nnoitra.

###

"Wake up!"

Nnoitra jerked awake from his restless slumber by cold water being splashed over his face. His body felt numb and sore. He also felt his arms and ankles being chained onto the wall; and he somehow wondered when and how he had gotten into this mess. And then he remembered everything—specifically, about Nelliel—and grimaced.

"I said wake up, Jiruga, goddammit!"

Nnoitra felt his gut being hit by hard thing, probably a stick or something. Grunting slightly, he opened one slanted eye and grinned scornfully at his tormentor.

"…Aaahh, Manuel, it's ya and yer bastard face…" he mumbled humorlessly. The foreman—now his tormentor—Manuel, glared at him. Using the wooden stick he had in his hands, the man hit Nnoitra hard on the gut, again. The latter grunted but he didn't cease his wide and scornful grin.

"Shut up, Jiruga! Do you even realize what you've done before? You've made Master angry!" he ranted. "I've never seen him that angry before."

Nnoitra sneered, somehow pleased. "…'S that so? I'm glad to hear that…"

Manuel glared at him. "Shit, Jiruga, I know since the first time you came here that you are a fucking troublemaker…but I don't believe that you'll make it until this far…" he trailed off. Nnoitra blinked.

"Whaddya mean?"

"Master ordered an execution for you."

Nnoitra's sneer faltered as he froze shocked.

"…What?"

"You'll be executed tomorrow morning." The older man continued grimly. "Just be prepared for your upcoming death and pray." With those words, he left Nnoitra alone.

Nnoitra was silent even after the foreman-slash-tormentor left. He let the man's recent words sank into his mind. As he recalled his suggestion to 'be prepared and pray', Nnoitra snorted loudly. His snort turned into a rueful, wry laughter.

"Pray? _Pray?_ No, ya're wrong, Manuel! It's not me who should pray in the first place…it's ya! Ya and the others! And that fuckin' fatty bastard of a master! It's them who should pray! It's them who should be prepared! For I, Nnoitra Jiruga, won't let myself die in some pathetic manner of bein' executed!

I am a warrior! And a warrior will live as one till they die! They will fight fer their life and in the battle they will die. I live in battle! I will also die in battle! I will die as my last breath leaves me before my body even hits the ground! That's the way I want to die! Not somethin' as pathetic as bein' executed…" he trailed off, panting.

His exclamation rang through the humid and thick walls of his dungeon; though nobody was bothered to listen to it. Nnoitra grimaced. He felt silly for yelling out loud like that, but he couldn't help it—he needed to yell, to vent his frustration.

As he waited silently for something to happen, _anything_, Nnoitra stared blankly at the darkened wall. Recalling the source of his current predicament, he could only murmur wistfully.

"…Nelliel, I hate ya…"

###

"Father, the preparation is ready."

A soft boyish voice whispered as its owner crept towards his father. He was a teenage boy with handsome face and light brown hair—a similar trait he shared with his old man. He was now crouching behind the thick bushes and foliages inside de Karras' hacienda—without being noticed, of course.

His father was also crouching beside him. He held something big in his arms, wrapped in black cloth. He nodded at his son, confirming his words.

"Good work, Tesla. You can go home now."

Tesla stared at his father before slowly shook his head. "…No, Father, whatever you will do tonight, I will surely join you. I won't go home, letting you plunging yourself in harm just like that."

Jose sighed. "Please, Son…"

"No. I will come with you. It's all about Senor Jiruga, isn't it? Well, he's my idol, so I am sure as hell I will join you to rescue him."

Another sigh escaped the old Jose. "…I know you will say that. Though 'rescue' isn't the exact word for our action tonight…considering Nnoit, it'll most likely turn into one bloody hell of a brawl."

Beckoning his son to follow him—and to help him carrying the thing he held now—Jose stealthily crept towards the path that led towards the underground dungeon. He didn't need to worry about the guards, since he had bribed them with the best drink he could muster. He almost cursed under his breath as his saving pouch thinned just for buying a crate of those liqueurs.

"Careful, Tesla. We mustn't be noticed."

"…I know, Father."

* * *

To get inside the underground dungeon was an easy task—once you know how. Jose had been the hacienda retainer since he was still very young; he knew every turnoff, every crevice of the mansion that even the landlord himself didn't know. So he took the hidden path, the path that mostly other coworkers didn't take, for they usually took another less inconspicuous way.

Moving carefully so the thing they carried with didn't fall or even scratch their vicinity, both father and son slowly yet surely crept inside the underground path. Jose halted when he heard some conversation being held. He stood still, hidden by the shadow and listening intently to the voices. Tesla also stopped behind his father, waiting and listening.

They heard yells and angry curses; and then stomping footsteps moving towards their place. Jose quickly moved onto the most shadowed corner, dragging his son and the thing with him. They held onto it tightly, feeling anxious in a fear of being noticed. They waited until they could see the person who stomped his way from the inner cell—Nnoitra's cell.

"…It's Manuel…" Jose whispered to his son tersely. Tesla nodded; he knew the foreman. He surely didn't like him.

"This way, Tes. And be careful with that thing."

Tesla shrugged. "I know, Father. What's this anyway?"

Jose smirked though his son didn't see him. He drawled, "My masterpiece, Son. My masterpiece."

Tesla only shook his head, chagrinned with his father's antic somehow.

They almost jumped out of their skin as they heard harsh exclamation from the cell. It was clearly Nnoitra's voice, cursing and shouting something about praying and the way of life as a warrior. They couldn't hear word per word, but what made them shiver after the exclamation was over was Nnoitra's hollow murmur—which strangely sounded more clearly than his previous shouts.

"…Nelliel, I hate ya…"

Both father and son looked at each other, bewildered; before continued to walk towards the cell. Once they reached the door, Jose peered inside through the barred gap. What he saw made him wince.

Nnoitra was chained onto the wall by his wrist and ankles; his lanky body was bare aside from his rag-like pants. Bruises, gashes, and open wounds alike could be seen clearly on his bare skin. He had a large gash on his left forehead—someone must have hit him hard at that place.

The tall man didn't seem to notice him as his somehow vacant eyes stared at nothing in particular. Jose held an urge to cluck in pity. Nnoitra hated for being pitied.

"Pssst, Nnoit." He rasped, trying to gain his attention. Nnoitra didn't seem to hear him so he rasped louder. _"Nnoit!"_

Nnoitra's head snapped upward as he heard the harsh rasp. He had felt someone's presence nearby, but he dismissed it as another guard. When he eventually heard his name being called in that manner, he frowned. His purple eyes darted towards the barred gap and he nearly dropped his jaw as he saw the old Jose peeked inside from behind the iron door.

"_Jose—! What the—_what're ya doin' here?" he hissed, shocked beyond belief. He didn't have even a strand of mind that someone would be willingly going that far to free him from that hellhole called underground dungeon. He didn't even think that someone would be the old fart Jose.

The old blacksmith smirked lopsidedly. "To rescue you, Nnoit. What else?"

Nnoitra couldn't believe his ears. "I don't need to be rescued! Especially from ya, ya old fart!"

"_Pssst!_ Be quiet, will you? I bring Santa Teresa with me…thought you're going to need this once you're free. Oh, I also bring Tesla to help me." He jerked towards another head behind him.

Tesla had also peeked inside and grinned awkwardly at Nnoitra. The latter couldn't help but glare at the teen. Tesla's grin faltered and he shrank away from Nnoitra's harsh glare. Jose chuckled.

"Awww, Nnoit, don't be that harsh towards my youngster, will you? He idolizes you, you know."

"That's beside the point, old man Jose!" Nnoitra snapped, unnerved. "What I wanna ask ya is, just what the fuck are ya doin' down here and pretendin' to help me out of here? It's dangerous, fer ya and yer son—"

"I'm touched, lad." Jose smirked widely. "You're worried about me and my son? That's very nice of you. Don't worry; the guards won't be coming for the time being."

Nnoitra spluttered. "I'm not worried, ya geezer! I—I just, well—"

"Oh, shut up. Wait for a second; I will get you out from here."

Nnoitra opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it and eventually shut his mouth. Jose's head had disappeared from his point of view—only to emerge later with wide smirk on. Nnoitra heard a not so loud CLANK before the iron door was opened from the outside.

"…I don't know that ya're such a wrecker." Nnoitra commented in an offhanded manner. His signature wide grin was back on his face.

Jose mimicked his grin. "Call me genius, lad. For a veteran blacksmith like me, no key or chain can hinder me anymore."

"Che, whatever."

Snickering, the old man sauntered inside, followed by Tesla. They carefully leaned Santa Teresa on the corner of the cell. Jose then told his son to be on guard, just in case. He then looked around the cell and grimaced.

"…Honestly, Nnoit, they have totally gone too far this time…you don't deserve this, after so much time you've dedicated to fight for that prick, fatty bastard." Jose spat in disgust. Nnoitra smiled.

"…My time here isn't any longer than ya, old man. And when does that fatty bastard ever care fer ya? Never. He didn't even spare ya a visit when Elena and Rudolfo died in the accident back then…"

Jose gave him a sideways glance as he was busy crouching and fiddling with the chains on Nnoitra's ankles. "…I know. That's why I've come to this decision. Not that I wouldn't do it for you if I decided otherwise, though…"

Nnoitra was silent. Inwardly he was grateful for Jose's aid. Sometimes, _someday_, he would like to regard the old blacksmith as someone equal a father for him.

A not-so-loud clank was heard as the chains bound onto Nnoitra's ankles came loose. The lanky man tested his limbs' movement by stretching and kicking in the midair as Jose finished his work on the other chains on his wrists. After he had done, both men stood silent and looked at each other.

"…Now what?" Nnoitra idly asked the old man.

"Get out of here, of course." Jose replied, chuckling. He pointed at Santa Teresa. "You'll gonna need that."

"Indeed."

Nnoitra picked his weapon; the familiar weight of Santa Teresa somehow reassuring him. He glanced at Jose, who had his eyes on him, and Tesla, who awkwardly stood beside his father. Grinning, he commanded.

"Let's get the fuckin' hell outta here!"

###

There was a ruckus coming from the direction of underground dungeon.

It was probably Nnoitra. Nelliel knew that much, since she had gained every information about Nnoitra's restraint from the household's retainers. The more she sought out information, the more she found out about Juan Carlo de Karras' vileness towards his workers. All she had to do was gaining more and more evidences before she could show the landlord's faults to her father and call for the authoritative force. They would capture and eventually jail him, and his former retainers would gain freedom.

Including Nnoitra.

Thinking about the man now made her heart skip. Nelliel was very much aware that she—apparently—had a feeling for him. Despite their brief meeting, she was sure that her feeling was valid. Even though…

Even though, Nnoitra didn't have the same feeling for her. She knew—damn, she painfully knew that he hated her. He hated her with passion. He hated her because she had managed to defeat him in his own field. Battle was his life, for as long as he lived, he lived only for battle. And Nelliel had ruthlessly snatched it from him.

It was her fault. All her fault…because of her, he was restrained. Because of her, he came to hate her. Because of her…

A loud scream of agony jerked her back from her reverie. She blinked in confusion, but another series of agonized screams snapped her out from her confused stupor. She quickly dashed towards the door, yanked it open, and almost collided with her panicked father, face first.

"Father!" she shouted, dismayed. Her father quickly gave her a brief hug before told her the truth. "That slave, the gladiator who fought you today…he has escaped from his prison!"

Nelliel's eyes widened, thoroughly shocked. Nnoitra has escaped? How—

"Father! How—how could he—?" she stammered out loud, unable to finish her sentences.

Herr Tu Odelschwanck shook his head. "I don't really know, dear. It seems that some other retainers help him through."

Nelliel was stunned. So the slaves and retainers within this hacienda had begun their rebellions towards their master…well, it was about time. Nelliel let out a grin. Her father, however, looked at her with bewilderment.

"Nell, dear, why are you grinning? This isn't the time to feel excited about the prospect of battle! Daughter, we have to go! The man will probably be after you, since you defeated and humiliated him! Senor de Karras has prepared for escape-route—"

"No, Father. I won't come with you." Nelliel's voice sounded resolute. Her father couldn't help but gape at her.

"_Nelliel!_ What in the ever loving heaven are you talking about?" Herr Tu Odelschwanck did nothing but yelled. His daughter didn't even flinch at his loud voice.

"I'm talking the truth, Father. I won't come with you and Senor de Karras to escape from this place. I will stay here."

"_Nelliel! Why?"_

"Because the man I love is here as well."

###

"…Che, they're nothin', but a bunch of pathetic weaklings." Nnoitra commented disgustedly as he flung the blood from Santa Teresa. Jose let out a harsh chuckle at his comment.

"…Damn right, lad. But still…could you tone down a little, will you, Nnoit? It's getting more and more bloody here; and I feel somehow repulsed…"

Nnoitra grinned, kicking away a dead body of the guard near his feet. He saw Jose flinch at the display. Amused, he chortled. "Whazzematter, old fart Jose? Chickened already?"

Jose glared at him, his face slightly green. "Of course not! I'm just…not used to see so much blood and torn limbs…fuck, Nnoit, how could you be so calm about killing them? Who knows that amongst them we can find familiar faces, like Sancho, Ramiréz, Énrique…the hell, Nnoitra, just—just look before you swing down Santa Teresa, you dork!"

Nnoitra raised one of his nonexistent eyebrows. "Now ya're lecturin' me about what I should or shouldn't do, hey old man? This is a battle, Jose! And we're now standin' in the middle of the battle ground! Aside from ya and yer spawn, Tesla, I have no other allies here! All of them are enemies! Enemies whom I have to cut down! No more and no less!"

Jose stared at him long and hard, before turned back to face another incoming troop. "…At least you still consider me and Tes as your allies, Nnoit."

Nnoitra grinned widely and swung his Santa Teresa towards the ranks. The huge scythe easily cut them down, blood spurting from their wounds. Some of them were even almost split in half. They dissolved and withered as their screams rang through the quickly empty hallway. Humming a merry tune and clearly enjoying the slaughtering, Nnoitra retorted.

"Of course, old fart Jose. Ya and Tesla are my loyal allies. Always be like that, huh?"

Jose only chuckled.

* * *

A loud gunshot startled them both. Some strangled cry and Jose hurriedly darted towards the source of the noise. His eyes were as wide as saucers when he saw the scene.

One of the guards had eventually had his hands on a riffle and used it to shoot Tesla—right on his heart. The poor teen didn't even have a chance to call out for his father or Nnoitra—only let out some strangled cry—as he fell onto the ground, dead. Blood pooled around his prone body, framing his thin form into one huge, crimson scene on the stony pavement.

"_TESLA! NOOOO!"_

With surprising strength for an old man, Jose managed to yank the riffle away and finally stab the guard right on his gut using his knife. Overwhelmed by his own shock and bloodied wound, the guard eventually slumped against the wall and died.

Jose quickly scooped Tesla's body and cried over his son's tragic fate. Nnoitra witnessed this scene; and he couldn't help but cuss loudly.

_Tesla's dead…my fault…it's my fa—_

"_Jose! Behind ya!"_

Nnoitra ran as fast as he could to aid Jose—as the old man was jabbed from behind…by Manuel of all people. The old blacksmith coughed blood, though he didn't give any effort to fight back. It seemed that the burden of losing his only son had him to give up even for his own life.

"_Jose!"_

With a swift swing, Nnoitra beheaded Manuel. He ignored the headless body, which crumpled onto the ground, and supported Jose's weak form as gentle as he could muster. Settling Santa Teresa beside him, the tall man tried to stem the bloody hole on the old man's back—to no avail.

"Dammit, Jose! Why didn't ya avoid the blow? Why didn't ya fight back? Why? Why?"

Cussing loudly as his effort to bind the wound failed, Nnoitra frantically looked around for some help. Maybe…just _maybe_, he could find someone—someone who had been friends with the old Jose…someone who would willingly help the old man…someone, _somebody…_

"…Nnoit…"

Nnoitra's head snapped back to look down at Jose—who smiled warmly at him. He stared blankly at the old man, unable to comprehend why the hell that man was smiling in the first place…

"…Nnoitra…it's okay, pal…I'm fine…this is…fine…"

Nnoitra's conscience kicked back as he digested Jose's word. Anger, somehow mixed with anxiety and worry for the older man's condition, laced his expression and voice when he glared down at him and yelled tightly.

"The hell ya're fine! Ya have a fuckin' bloody hole on yer back, ya old prick! There's no way ya're fine!"

Jose smiled weakly and shook his head. "…You don't understand, young lad…you just…don't understand…when someone loses his…beloved one, he will…uh, also…loses his meaning of…life…I have…lost Tesla…my dear son, Tesla…I…don't have any meaning…to live…anymore…"

Nnoitra stared blankly at the old man.

"…Heh, don't cry, lad…"

Nnoitra almost countered the comment heatedly—Nnoitra Jiruga didn't cry, goddammit!—when he felt those old yet strong fingers brushed against his cheek. As he grabbed Jose's hand, he felt something wet on his own fingers. He startled himself…he had been crying!

Letting out a harsh chuckle, Nnoitra hastily wiped away the remnant of his shameful tears.

"Heh, I'm not crying, ya old bastard! Nnoitra Jiruga, the Angel of Despair, doesn't cry, remember? He makes other people cry and beg and pray, but he surely, _definitely_ doesn't cry himself."

"…Heh, sure…he doesn't indeed…"

"…Shut up, Jose. Save yer strength. I'll find someone, some—some healer to cure yer wound! Ya just wait—"

Nnoitra barely stood up when Jose's next words stopped his movement.

"…Nnoitra…don't…my time…almost…"

The old blacksmith coughed blood once more and then fell limply within Nnoitra's arms.

Jose was dead.

* * *

Nelliel ran through the empty corridor, hand gripping Gamuza. Her father was trailing behind her.

They couldn't find their host anywhere within the hacienda; Juan Carlo de Karras simply disappearing from the site. They also couldn't find even just one living being within the mansion, aside from themselves.

Stepping into the grassy verandah on the other side of the building, Nelliel couldn't hold her shocked gasp. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stem retch that threatened to rush out.

The outer verandah was a bloody mess. Dead bodies—cut in half, headless, and torn apart alike—sprawled haphazardly on the ground. Looking from their uniforms, they were the guards and maids of the hacienda. And, again, looking from their wounds, they were cut by some kind of heavy blade.

Heavy blade…Nelliel suddenly remembered about something. That scythe-alike blade…yes, it must be the culprit's weapon.

Horrified, Nelliel realized the possibility that the culprit was, most likely, Nnoitra.

She paled and gasped. Confused and worried, her father quickly trotted towards her, only to be stopped by his daughter's croaky warning.

"F—Father, don't come over here! Stay where you are!"

"But, Nelliel dear, why—"

"Just stay where you are, Father! You don't want to see this…"

Herr Tu Odelschwanck halted in the mid-step, somehow shocked by his daughter's sharp yell. He was still for some moments, before he cast a disapproving look at her. Clucking his tongue in such fatherly-impatient manner, he strode over the few steps towards Nelliel and went to reprimand her—when his nose caught a whiff of some…unpleasant, tangy smell.

"What? What is this smell…?"

Nelliel turned to glare helplessly at her father. "Father, I've told you to stay where you are!"

"And I don't need you to tell me everything I want and have to do, Nelliel dear. A lady shouldn't yell like th—"

His voice was caught in his throat as he peered at the verandah. His eyes widened significantly, a horrified look flashing within those hazel eyes. Quickly, he clamped a hand over his mouth and nose; and backpedaled from the door. The poor old man couldn't hold it anymore and retched.

Nelliel sighed. Her own urge to vomit seemingly faded as she looked at her father vomiting his stomach out. She felt sorry for him, though.

"Father, are you alright? Let's go from this place. We'll find another path aside from this way."

Exhausted after emptied his stomach out, Herr Tu Odelschwanck could only nod weakly at his daughter. He let his daughter grasp his arm and led him away from this hellhole…

* * *

"_Please!_ Please stop, Jiruga! I beg you! Please st—"

**WHAMP!** CRACK!

SPLOTCH!

Drip…

Drip…

"…Sorry 'bout that, Énrique. Regardless of Jose countin' ya as one of his friends, ya're nothing more than the bastard de Karras' lick-boot dog.

So…even prayin' and beggin' won't be enough to keep yer life on. Just shut the fuck up and die already!"

"…"

"…Ah, I forgot…ya're dead already…"

* * *

_Nnoitra, where are you?_

_Where are you, Nnoitra?_

_Why are you doing this? Massacre isn't the answer for your freedom! Why, why, Nnoitra?_

_Don't…don't fall too deep into the abyss of blood lust, Nnoitra! There's more than just living for the battle! And meaninglessly dying for it! There's more than just that, Nnoitra…more…_

_I want to be the one who free you. I want to be the one who give you more meaning for your life._

_I want to be your sunshine._

_I want to be your love._

_I want to be your life._

_I want to…_

_I want to…_

…

_But, the question is…_

…_Do you want me to?_

* * *

_Another one of those pathetic, lick-boot dogs finally fuckin' died._

_Those damn bastards just don't know how to quit! They know I'm stronger than them, they know I'll be the death of them…yet they keep goin' and goin' to attack me!_

_Pathetic, useless, stupid fuckin' garbage dogs!_

_Jose and Tesla are gone now; I'm fuckin' much alone. Alone…I'm used to it, though. Alone, I'll free myself from this hellhole shit. Alone, I'll go findin' my own damn path of life…Heh, Jose must have laughed at me now, from his place in that nonexistent realm called heaven._

_Yeah, I don't believe in heaven and hell and god and those fuckin' pathetic bullshits. I mean, come on! If god does exist, how come he creates some kind of abomination namely Juan Carlo de Karras? As my master, nonetheless?_

_Fate is truly, really a __**bitch**__…_

…_Fuck this ramble…I digress…_

_Hafta find that fuckhead bastard…and cut 'im clean in pieces before I continue my escape plan…_

_Flee from this goddamn hellhole and free from her…_

…_On second thought, maybe I won't be free even from her shadow…_

_Even in death…my death…_

_Or maybe…_

_She will be the death of me…_

_That Nelliel…_

…

_Dammit!_

_I fuckin' digress…_

* * *

Nelliel stepped over a dead body—this one was torn limb by limb—and had to hold her nausea. God, she felt like retching!

Behind her, she could hear his father pray and mutter the Almighty Lord's Prayer in German. She could only tighten her grip on his father's clammy hand—a sign that, hopefully, everything would be alright. She felt his father reciprocate her gesture; and she smiled wistfully.

_Nnoitra…where are you?_

* * *

Nnoitra eventually found him—his fatty master—inside one of his secret chambers in the highest tower of the hacienda.

It was the treasure chamber. It seemed that the lord of the hacienda eventually chickened after finding out about Nnoitra's escape-slash-killing-spree; so he decided to grab some gold and flee. But before he could do that, fate in the name of the Angel of Despair or Nnoitra Jiruga, had found him first. The poor man was now curling tightly like some kind of ball, hugging his satchel of gold; and Nnoitra couldn't help but snort at him.

"Well, well, well, look at what I got here...good 'mid' night, Master. As ya've known, it's time to die fer ya, Senor de Karras. Good bye."

"Wa—wait! Wait, Jiruga, wait!" his fatty master squeaked out, terrified. Nnoitra halted, mostly because of habit—for obeying his master's order—and not because he was truly listening to his master's plea.

"I can give you anything! Anything! Please, Jiruga, please spare my life! I am your master! I was the one who took you in from the street! I was the one who cared for you! I was the one who fed you! So, please! Please spare my life, Jiruga! Jiruga!"

Nnoitra fixated his gaze at the slumping form of his obese master, deeply disgusted. He scrunched up his nose in sheer repugnance as he muttered only two words.

"…Pathetic weakling."

And Santa Teresa was swung down—

…

—only to be blocked by a slim, Japanese styled sword.

Gamuza.

Nnoitra was shocked. As he whirled around to face his opponent, he could see her wavy green hair. He could see her saddened beautiful face. He could see her voluptuous form, clad in light green night gown.

She was gorgeous…she was a goddess.

Nnoitra didn't believe in gods, let alone goddesses. But he believed, that at that time, Nelliel was a goddess. _His_ goddess.

"Stop it, Nnoitra." She sternly admonished him. "Killing isn't the right solution."

Nnoitra blinked at her. And then he sneered mockingly.

"Then what's the right solution then? Bitch."

He saw her flinch after hearing his harsh words. Deep down there, within his wretched heart, Nnoitra didn't want to call her by that degrading term. He didn't want to degrade her.

But he was scared…

Yes, Nnoitra was scared.

For Nelliel and him were like heaven and earth. Too many differences, too far the gap between them. He wasn't for her. She deserved the better man than just him; heck, she deserved the best.

"I know about the vileness and cruelty of this…" she glanced disgustedly at the landlord, before turned her eyes back on Nnoitra, "…_man_. I can gain more evidences about his deeds and then we can bring him to the government."

Nnoitra snorted. "Don't dream, bitch! He allies with law vassals and the government henchmen! If we turn him in, he'll just bribe them and then he'll be free again. Nope, na-dah, not a chance. The only way to get rid of him _forever_ is to kill him, right here and right now. No puns there, period."

She scowled at him, seemingly disapproved.

"But…"

"No buts either, bitch. This is final. The fuckin' bastard must die."

Nnoitra went to swing his Santa Teresa down at the poor man—when he saw that his prey had disappeared. Cussing loudly, he frantically looked around to find him.

"Father! No—!"

Her voice snapped him to look back at her. She turned her back to him and faced the opposite direction. Nnoitra threw his gaze forward, following her eyes; and eventually his own eyes widened in shock.

Juan Carlo de Karras, in his desperation to flee, had taken Herr Tu Odelschwanck as a hostage.

"You—you bastard! Release my father or—" she bellowed indignantly, but her threat was cut off by the burly man's nervous sneer.

"Or? Or what? You will turn me in, Fraulein Nelliel? You will definitely turn me in, won't you?" he breathed hard as he pressed his short knife at the older Tu Odelschwanck. The poor man whimpered weakly, making Nelliel yelp in fear and worry.

"Father! Stop! Stop! Don't hurt him…"

"I won't…in one condition."

"What?"

"You have to be mine, Fraulein Nelliel."

* * *

_How dare he?_

_**How dare he?**_

_Nelliel is…_

_Nelliel is…_

_She is…_

* * *

"Ya goddamn fuckin' bastard, de Karras!"

"_Nnoitra! Don't—!"_

A swing.

A hasty movement.

Santa Teresa down.

A hasty movement.

Gamuza.

CLANK!

A clash.

"Move, bitch! I hafta kill that bastard!"

"Dammit, Nnoitra! You can't! My father's there—"

"Dammit, bitch! I don't fuckin' care about yer father!"

Push.

Gasp.

"Nnoitra, you—!"

Sway.

Slash.

"…Bitch—!"

CLANK!

Another clash.

"Stop it, Nnoitra! Stop it right now!"

"No! I hafta kill de Karras! Just move yer ass, bitch!"

"…No, I won't."

Sway.

Swing.

CLANK!

Another and more clash.

"Move, bitch! Move, goddammit!"

"I said NO!"

Sway.

The oppressing force.

Gasp.

Slipping.

Another gasp.

WHAMP!

SPLOTCH!

Clattering.

Gamuza.

Shock.

Silence.

"…No…"

Silence.

"…N—Nnoitra…I…I love y—"

* * *

Nnoitra couldn't believe it. His hand holding Santa Teresa was trembling; and eventually it gave away of its grip. The heavy weapon fell onto the ground, clattering noisily against the hard surface.

_Nelliel, ya damn bitch…_

He stared blankly at her, watching as her hazel eyes went wide in shock and disbelief. And then they dimmed and rolled into the back of her skull. In front of him, Nelliel eventually collapsed. He could only dimly hear her father's screams; calling for her—his world was now rotating around her and her only.

_Why did ya do this to me?_

He could hear her last remark, although it was whispered out of her last breath. How come…how…just how…

How come she could love him? Him of all people?

_Nelliel, ya fool…_

"…No…"

Large, bloody gash adorned her body, deeply wounding her chest. Her heart. Blood gushed out in rapid flow, quickly forming a puddle beneath her feet. She was dead…because of him. Because of his Santa Teresa…

"…Nelliel, no…"

_Nelliel, I hate ya…_

He heard a loud bang and was dimly aware that his master was no longer existed—a bloody hole adorned his fatty chest. He didn't even care anymore. He just kept staring at her dead body. At her somehow serene feature…

He tried to reach for her—only to have a riffle shoved onto his head—or, for precisely, onto his left eye. He didn't even care anymore.

"Don't even think to touch my precious daughter, you filthy murderer!"

_Nelliel, I hate ya…_

_I hate ya so much…_

_I hate ya so much I can't even bring myself to hate you anymore…_

…_Weird, huh?_

…_Indeed…_

"…_When someone loses his beloved one, he will also loses his meaning of life…"_

_Jose, ya goddamn old fart…I think I know __**now**__ what ya meant back then…_

_Too late fer me, eh?_

_Even before I met her, I've been already dead. She made me relive once more—only to let me dead, again, in the last time._

_Damn ya, Nelliel…_

"…Die, _you son-of-a-bitch_!" Herr Tu Odelschwanck cocked the riffle.

_Though…_

_Nelliel…_

…_I think I love ya…_

…

…_There…_

_I finally say it…_

_Too bad ya can't hear it anymore…_

**BANG!**

###

* * *

**A/N:** Good ending, everyone?

Please R&R. I'll appreciate it. Thank you for reading. See you next time.


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